Lucy's Throne Chapter One
by Dantalious Abyss
Summary: I'm sorry, why are you here again? You're reading about me? Pathetic, you have nothing better to do? Might as well. (From the perspective of a demon prince, one of my muses. He's an asshole and the Prince of Pride so. Sorry about that. This is basically just a collection of memories from him.)
1. Chapter 1

Lucy's Throne

Chapter One (Introduction)

A smal, svelte demon sat upon his bejewled throne. His body was askew, his legs swung over the arm of the royal seat, his sharp chin resting on the flesh of his hand. His eyes glowed a faint teal blue, but glancing closer, he was, in fact, bored. He let out a long yawn, his free hand moving the chains that hung from his large horns loosely out of his sight. His throne room was long, with tall ceilings adorned with decoration in purple and gold, a golden carpet leading like a spotlight directly to his throne, yet the room was completely empty except for him. No cheer, no valor, no happiness, just silence and the overly loud sound of his boredom. He went by Lucy; it was a nickname given to him by those who feared him. It was short for Lucifer, but that wasn't him. No, that was his father. King of Hell. How ironic, no? A name fit for a king, given to a Prince of Pride. His name was Valefor, Valefor Amon Orias. Lovingly referred to by a dear friend as Valley-boy. That, is me. Isn't it disgusting? Those were people, demons, I may have been able to call friends.

Is it narcissistic to write an auto-biography at such a ripe young age of a few thousand years? I sit on my throne (my glorious throne, might I add) with this stupid little book in my hands, the pen clicking against the hard shell of my horns. What is there to write about, my near-death experiences hidden behind the word "adventures"? My time taking over the grand throne? What things were like before my throne room was empty? Are you here to hear about Alcher?

Well he's gone now, you've missed out. But I guess I can humor you a bit. You'd honestly be honored to hear about the tales I have to share. I suppose I can tell a few.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy's Throne  
Chapter

Where do I even begin? ...I suppose I should start with Alcher's story. It's probably the most important, besides mine. Only I can talk about him. Or, write about him, rather, without getting disgusting emotions. Emotions I'd rather not go through again.  
I received a beautiful little Wrath when I was a younger demon. My father brought him to me, he was the runt of his litter. Wraths are bred in bulk, for the royal family and those who can afford one. My family, being the most important family in Hell, obviously gains anything they wish for free. So here was this angry little wrath, held up by his tiny horns, kicking and screaming at the emKing of Hell, /emmy father. He had spunk from the moment he was brought into the palace. Father chuckled, laughed even, before slamming him to the ground before me. I, indeed, was smaller at the time, my horns not fully grown out and adorned with the beautiful flowers and chains they are now, but I was at least a foot and a half taller than this pathetic wrath. I looked down upon him, my nose in the air, arms crossed. At this point, none of my 12 other siblings were dead, so they crowded around my new toy like children with no self control. I scoffed at them and took the horns of this runt just as Father had, pulling him close to me. He hissed and seethed and attempted to bite me; this attitude quickly grew to be hatred but I would eventually break him of that. I smiled down at him with a big toothy grin, my sharp teeth not so sharp at this age.  
"What an… interesting little gift! May I name him myself, Father?" I asked sweetly, keeping my grin up at him.  
Father was tall, muscular, and quite popular. He had a loud booming laugh and a sadistic personality, but would never hurt his children. He loved us all equally- probably would have loved me a bit less if he knew I would grow older to eventually slaughter him and take his precious crown.  
He let out that proud laugh. "Of course, my little Valefor. Do you have anything in mind?"  
I studied the pissy little wrath, who had abandoned attempting to kick and bite me in favor of glaring at me. I took note of his discolored eyes, one a gold-yellow and the other an ugly red. Disgusting. He had large, dark freckles that he would grow into and a few scars, from defending himself against other wrath. "Alcher."  
At his new name, he groaned in exasperation and began attempting to kick again. I held him by the feet and dug my nails into his dark skin. "Alcher? Why that?" Father contemplated it before shaking his head. "Nevertheless, he is yours now. Take care not to get him killed."  
Father swung his arm upwards and my brothers and sister began to follow him. Zaryutha, my sister, Princess of Lust, watched over her shoulder as I threw my new wrath to the harsh floor and stepped on the side of his head with the bottom of my boot. I kneeled down, my knee not hitting the dirty floor that was only meant for our slaves.  
"Listen here, runt." I used the palm of my hand to turn his head to face me. His eyes were wide and pitiful. I took a deep breath before continuing. "You are going to serve me for the rest of your life so you'd better learn to respect me starting this second. Now stand." I stood up and took a step back to give him room.  
He glared at me and began to get up slowly. He rubbed at the back of his neck and moved a few pieces of hair out of his face. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Speak."  
"Alcher?"  
His voice was deeper than I'd expected for such a young runt. "Yes. That is your name. Don't tell anybody unless I give you permission."  
"It's a shitty name. Can I pick my own out?" He dare ask me such a question? Me? Did he even know who he was speaking to?  
"Do you even know who you are speaking to?" I asked, my mouth agape. How absolutely undignified. "I am V-"  
"Yeah yeah, Valefall, Prince of Pride or Sloth or something right? I've heard a lot about you. Can't say it's good."  
I stared at him. No one had the bravery to come at me with such… such disgrace, such pitiful lameness. I almost felt bad. "It's _Valefor, Prince of Pride_. You'll be sure to get it right next time or pay double the punishment. I will excuse it, this one day because you are new, and stupid. Now, let me look at you." I raised my nose at him and gave him The Look.  
Immediately he straightened up from his slouching position, shoulders back, nearly as tall as I now. He was a bit lanky, lacked muscle. I doubt he could've done anything at that point.  
I walked in a slow circle around him, boots clacking as I looked him up and down. He would need improvement, yes, for the years to come. He would need a new outfit other than the horrifically ugly plain clothes he was wearing, something royal, something fit for a Prince's Wrath. I would get that for him soon, along with a few other things to improve his appearance to match mine.  
He didn't know what was to happen to him for the next few years, but maybe if he had he would've run that day. He would've kicked and screamed much louder out of my father's grip and ran out of the palace, through the streets of sin to get away from the bloodshed and anger he would accomplish during his time with me. He would've sacrificed the bond we would eventually share for freedom, for life. But then he wouldn't have had me to richen his memories and experiences. But you don't quite know that yet, do you? The rest is for another day, if I decide you're worthy of it. Alcher's story must be forever preserved in time, from beginning to end and it is my duty to preserve it.  
After all, I was his Prince. And soon, his King.


End file.
